


Winter's Call

by Klaus69Xx



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - War, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7884919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaus69Xx/pseuds/Klaus69Xx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony says he doesn’t take Ex-military, Ex-soldier, Ex-anyone who was, is, or will be part of a war.<br/>But when she dances, he lets her stay. </p><p>A circus time-travel love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's Call

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my AMAZING beta [Sunshine](http://sunshine-and-christmas-caryls.tumblr.com/) who was super helpful and lovely and gave this story its finishing touch! All remaining mistakes are mine.

The first time he sees her, she is twirling on her toes in the dirt. The heat paints drops of sweat on her skin, and the dust darkens the white of her dress and the red of her hair. But not her smile. He sees it, caught between two movements so fast it was nearly invisible, and falls in love.

The first time she sees him he is holding a bow like it is part of him. He raises the weapon, his body vibrating with energy, but his chest rising and falling steadily. Then it stops and for a moment she thinks maybe she was wrong, maybe he isn’t real and her mind is playing a trick on her, but when the music reaches its crescendo, he lets go.

Somewhere, there must still be noise, the orchestra and people cheering, but all she hears is her heart thudding in her chest. Like a wild animal it rages, so hard that everyone must hear it. She isn’t afraid.

~~~~*~~~~

The circus tents fold together like dying giants; sad heaps of cloth with humans milling around like ants, working as one. The townspeople stand and watch them work hungrily. Their faces empty and sunken in, the light fading out of their eyes with every packed up object. When the circus goes, it takes the magic with it.

Clint doesn’t look at them. It’s moments like these he isn’t sure if he hates or loves his job.

He wants to tell them there will always be that moment in time when the tents were standing proudly, when he stood in the middle of the arena and hit dead center, again and again. A time when a beautiful redhead, _Natasha_ , was dancing laden in fake jewels and embroidery as if she was born for it. A moment that would exist forever, that _had_ always existed.

But they know that. It doesn’t change the fact that time is moving on and they, the poor and unwanted, have no chance of getting it back. So he packs his things, wraps up his bow, and doesn’t look back.

He looks at Natasha instead, thinks maybe she smiles at him. He is almost sure of it.

~~~~*~~~~

They move from rich green earth to bridges spanning over murky water to endless deserts with a burning sun reflecting off skyscrapers that reach for clouds no longer there.

The tents are set up again.

~~~~*~~~~

Tony says he doesn’t take Ex-military, Ex-soldier, Ex-anyone who was, is, or will be part of a war.

But when she dances, he lets her stay. He nods when she says she learnt ballet at an academy. Smiles when she says the knives were always just a hobby.

He should know better. No one can leave their past behind nowadays.

Clint sees the blood on her hands.

~~~~*~~~~

He tries to woo Natasha the only way he knows how- he brings her coffee. When the sun rises, when the day has been long, and when he craves the black liquid himself so much he feels his skin itch.

She becomes his new addiction. Inhumanely beautiful, so sharp it hurts, and funny, though not many seem to see it.

Clint watches her twirl her knives and tries to sharpen his arrows.

~~~~*~~~~

The first time he makes her laugh he tells a joke about pancakes and dogs. It escapes from deep within her, and seems to catch her by surprise. He is proud for days.

The next time her mask slips to reveal the boiling emotions underneath, they are in a time when buildings are made of wood and stones; when there are too many horses and not enough cars. When women don’t wear pants and husbands cling to traditions.

He never bothers to keep up with the time and place, but he knows there will be no animal clinic in this era. So Clint takes the dying dog to her.  
He hadn't been entirely sure it was the right move, but she is tender now, carefully stitching and bandaging.

He scoffs at Natasha’s remark to name him ‘Arrow’ and calls him Lucky instead.

The dog makes it.

~~~~*~~~~

Clint is the one who ends up looking after Lucky; but Natasha smiles at him now when he enters the dining tent, and has taken to drinking his coffee without asking first.

He had feared, now that he has seen a part of her true self and not just the act she keeps up even after the show ends; that she would turn away, hide again behind smiles too soft.

But he also fears that she saw him for who _he_ was. Too weak to take care of his own problems. Too soft for this cruel world.  
But she never leaves.

~~~~*~~~~

They were sitting outside when the bombs fell.

The circus life bustled on behind them; people arguing, animals screeching, cars driving by. The city was alive before them, the electricity thrumming so strong they could hear a harsh hum. Skyscrapers blocked out the stars and moon, instead filling the night with the light from a thousand windows. A thousand more people. The noise was deafening. Clint hadn’t felt so alive in a long time.

The calm before the storm, he knows now.

He dared to hold Natasha's hand, felt her curl into him.

History books, or their attempts thereof, will say the city was annihilated.

The circus just barely makes it out. People don’t even have time to beg the crew to take them; to bring their children to safety. It all happens so fast.

They build emergency quarters 500 hundred years in the future, and Clint, Natasha and Lucky sit in what once was a city with skyscrapers made of steel- built for their durability- now just gone. No ruins left, no graves. Nothing remained.

Behind them, Pepper takes stock of the equipment, artists and damage done. She strides forward like always, head held high, but Clint sees the list she holds and knows it will only grow longer.

He looks at Natasha, remembers 500 years- though really, just a few hours- ago how her spine went rigid, how she was ready to fight or flee. He had pulled her up- not even needing a second to decide once he saw the first plane- and they had run together, Lucky at their heels.

Natasha is still holding his hand, just a bit too tight, and he can feel the strength in her, feel her calluses and scars. Knows she can feel his.

~~~~*~~~~

Clint is waiting for Lucky to finish his business. There are imprints in the snow where his dog's socked paws had left footprints leading deeper into the woods. He is freezing his balls off.

Warmth seeps into him and red enters his vision as she kisses him carefully. Her hair dances in the wind. Their breath mingles for a moment, before it dissipates into the frigid air, and she tells him in a whisper about growing up in woods like these. In cold like this.

She calls it Red Room, and she asks him if he will come with her. She already carries his bow and quiver, knives no doubt hidden all over her.

He can hear Lucky barking.

The circus is his home. His sanctuary.

And even though he loves Natasha, he knew from the beginning these two couldn’t coexist. Her past, her future would come to haunt her. But she doesn’t want to wait, it seems.

Clint knows he can either let her go and hope the storm will pass, or he can stay with her.

He takes a long moment to look back at the tents. There will always be that moment in time when he was standing there in the arena, taking aim, and making kids scream in delight. He whispers a goodbye to the place that had hid him from the world.

Then he follows her.

**Author's Note:**

> There was a starting point: someone invented a time machine. The knowledge to build these machines spread and people, mostly nations used them to alter history in their favor which first led to conflict, then to war. But whenever one victory is made, someone else traveles through time to change that again. 
> 
> A time line doesn’t exist anymore, technology and knowledge is shared over all eras, people from all kinds of times are ripped from their homes to fight, which brought chaos and confusion. But only a few can afford time machines so the rest is stuck. 
> 
> The reason something can be altered is that when something happens it becomes fixed in time, something that can be visited again and again.
> 
> This probably doesn’t make much sense and I actually didn’t spend so much time fleshing it out as it isn’t so important for the story but if you want to talk about it with me feel free.


End file.
